


Serving the Warmaster

by The_LupercalXVI



Category: Warhammer 40.000
Genre: Couple, Gay Sex, Luna Wolves, M/M, Porn, Primarch x Astartes, Romance, Sons of Horus - Freeform, pairing - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-19
Updated: 2019-08-19
Packaged: 2020-09-07 20:00:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20315188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_LupercalXVI/pseuds/The_LupercalXVI
Summary: The Emperor's war machines have to relax too.





	Serving the Warmaster

Exhaustion was not a fate that often bothered the Warmaster, but it wasn’t one he was immune to, either. Since Ullanor, his workload had increased. He wasn’t always ungrateful—working meant he had less time to wonder why their Father had abandoned them—but at times it dug into his sanity and made him less patient, less amicable, less compassionate. In many fights and compliances that he would’ve handled personally previous to Ullanor, he instead sent other Legions to gain their own legacy and glory. He hoped they would learn their own strengths and weaknesses like he had, and perfect strategies to using them best.

And so he sent them to places he would have rather gone himself, trusting his brothers to do their jobs as well as he would’ve done had he been there. Constantly writing and sending orders through the astropaths was enough to drive any man mad, but the fact that his feet rarely made landfall the past few months really irked him. And it would be several days before they were near any planet he could land.

_At least the orders are done and sent. And now I can relax a while,_ Horus thought as he leaned back in his desk chair. He looked around the room, slouching a bit and closing his eyes to try and calm his mind. He didn’t need to think about war constantly, even if war was not only his job, but his life. There would be a time after they won, after the Imperium was entirely united, that he could relax and rest. He looked forward to the days that Warmaster would be a title of honor. A historical moment that left the Imperium a better place. He would be grateful that he did his part in Father’s Will, and then he would retire and be able to enjoy life as an almost normal man.

_Perhaps I should sleep while I have the chance,_ he thought, getting to his feet and looking over at the bed. It was warm and covered in thick, fluffy blankets made from various types of pelts. An elk, a moose, older animals that he’d heard lived on Terra at one point, found on various agri-worlds he’d been to. A bear pelt was his current favorite to snuggle under, mostly because of the story behind his obtaining it. As he ran his hand through the thick fur, the memories came back, and he smiled.

The world they had landed on that day had been classified feudal, and open to diplomacy. Most days Horus would’ve sent Maloghurst or Sejanus to handle discussions, but he’d heard rumors that size meant more for the people on that world than pretty words. Astartes were generally considered short at seven feet, but Maloghurst and Sejanus were both in the healthy eight feet range. Now had Horus not been desperate to get off the ship, or just bored with not ever getting into situations personally anymore, they easily could’ve done the job. But Horus had pointed out his own height—ten feet with eight inches above that—would certainly garner more attention than simply sending astartes. Of course, his Justaerin would go in alongside him. And Sejanus and Maloghurst as well. But 50 men their size would leave more impact than three or four, and Horus ultimately made it orders, despite debate, that they would be going as a group.

Entertainingly, the one who argued the least was his First Captain, Ezekyle Abaddon. After one statement that he was concerned for Horus’s safety, he added that the Warmaster was capable of defending himself and it wasn’t his place to say otherwise.

And so they had landed as a group. Abaddon stayed at his Primarch’s right hand, close, wary, but also trusting his leader to do what was necessary. They had fought together on numerous occasions and had an understanding of each other in combat. Among other places, including the kitchen, strategium, and bedroom.

No greeting party met them, though, and it quickly became apparent that this feudal world was actually a feral world. As in, the bear that charged Horus ten minutes after landing and wound impaled on his Talon signaled the rest of the Luna Wolves that reports on this world were either false or outdated.

Ultimately, the only things they found on the world that even hinted at human life were an encampment that had recently been ravaged by wild animals and a long-abandoned attempt at a city. And so, before sending the message to Terra that the world was no threat, Horus sent down a few neophytes to hunt for meat and trophies from the local animals. He took care to explain to them that animals were creatures to be respected and honored in death, just as men, and that the harvest was not to wipe out the populations there. Their freezers were stocked well with meats and even some vegetables that were harder to come by, and several of his Cthonic boys set to making new, strong brews with some of the plants that weren’t tasty to eat, but still edible.

A knock on the door startled Horus from his memories and he slowly looked at it as he lifted his hand from the fur. This was the private hall on the Spirit, therefore no one should’ve been in it aside from a certain ten or so people he had given the codes to enter.

“Come in,” he finally said, stepping away from the bed slightly. The door wasn’t locked. At least he didn’t remember locking the door. After a long pause, he started to move toward it when it slid open. A face of anger that could only be matched by Angron stared at him, slowly softening as the crossed arms fell to their host’s sides.

“Yes, Ezekyle?” Horus said softly, smiling at the man at his door.

_“I’m fuckin’ sick of dealin’ with his shit!”_ Abaddon hissed in Cthonic. He almost took a step forward, but caught himself and dug his heels into the metal beneath him. His full terminator armor made a sickening grinding noise that caused Horus’s lips to twitch.

“Whose shit this time?” he asked. He didn’t move out of the doorway just yet, but his mind was processing new ways to relax with his First Captain being added to the equation.

_“Fuckin’ Torgaddon! All he ever does is fuckin’ play and joke and bullshit and he’s never serious about nothin’ and he went too fuckin’ far!” _Abaddon growled, his voice threatening to break into shouting with every curse word. Horus refused to laugh or even smile more as he motioned the First Captain inside.

“What has my Second Captain done this time?” he asked, closing the door behind Abaddon and locking it once he was inside. Too angry to notice the development, Abaddon continued to complain. He was calming down but his fury was always deep, if not always merited.

“He took my power claw and spray painted it pink,” Abaddon said, returning to Gothic as a language. “It won’t charge properly now and to get the paint stripped without damaging the claw is going to cost me a week of service to the Mechanicus bastards on board. And I don’t want to serve them cause they are always threatening to attach things to me I don’t need.”

Horus chuckled and began removing his armor. “I can write you a clearance, assuming you earn it from me with service,” he stated. He turned slightly to see Abaddon’s eyes widen. Things were connecting in his mind and suddenly he wasn’t as angry as he was embarrassed.

“P-primarch, are you sure that’s w-what should happen?” Abaddon sputtered. “Maybe Tarik should be punished instead? He needs to…”

“Would you rather him serve me?” Horus teased as he pulled off his boots. The bodysuit beneath his armor was tighter around his groin than usual. He noted Abaddon’s eyes staring at the bulge and slowly sat on the bed, legs spread just enough that he looked needier than he was.

“...no sir,” Abaddon finally mumbled, his left hand touching his codpiece as he waited desperately for a command to strip. Seeing his First Captain’s desperate eagerness, Horus decided to play a hateful game. He laid back on the bed and began removing the body suit, starting at the neck and moving down. His hand lingered over his length, stroking it a little to make it harder as he continued removing the rest of the under armor. Abaddon whimpered but said nothing, his breathing heavier.

“Do you like what you see?” Horus asked, trying to keep his tone flat but sounding husky.

“I _need_ what I see,” Abaddon answered. His codpiece no longer sat evenly against the rest of his armor and he had a hand over his hearts to try and calm them down. Horus laughed and sat up on the bed, eyes on his First Captain as he let his hands fall to his sides. He watched Abaddon shuffle his feet and try to move forward. But he caught himself and remained standing at attention. Horus had not given him permission, nor had he told him what he wanted. The First Captain would not act until given permission; impulsive, passionate personality be damned.

“Well, we agree you’re going to serve me, yes?” Horus asked, standing up. Abaddon didn’t respond immediately, staring down at what he wanted. His mouth opened slowly but closed as he thought of what he could say. After he determined words weren’t working, he simply nodded.

Horus ran a finger over Abaddon’s lower lip, grinning when it trembled. Astartes were made for all forms of combat yet other emotions and sensations confused them. Machines of war, like their Primarchs, but made from men. And while they were trained to deny themselves simpler pleasures, the passions could be brought out with the right stimulation. Because inside them all was a core of humanity, else they wouldn’t be as effective on the battlefield.

“Then get on your knees,” Horus whispered right in Abaddon’s ear. Abaddon took in a sharp breath but followed orders as quickly as possible. He winced, likely from the tightness in his crotch and having very little room to move yet did not question the pace things were going. His job—his life—was to serve Horus Lupercal. In whatever capacity his Primarch asked. And Abaddon enjoyed his life.

“The rules are the same as always, Ezekyle. If I am hurting your pride, honor, or body in ways that do not please you, tell me to stop. And the first question I have, as always, is in, or out?”

Abaddon’s face turned red as he stared at Horus’s length, just three inches from his mouth. His lips again parted, his tongue running over them when he realized how dry he felt. “In, sir,” he finally mumbled.

Horus took a small step forward, pressing his tip against his First Captain’s lips. He held onto his shaft as he pushed it between Abaddon’s lips, then teeth, then past his tongue and almost to the back of his throat. Slowly he pulled back a bit, then pushed back in, getting into a steady rhythm and letting go of his length as Abaddon began to respond. There was slight pressure from Abaddon’s teeth, then his tongue began to move up and down Horus’s cock. Every few seconds he would press his tongue against Horus’s foreskin, pushing it up and down as the precum began to leak out.

“Let go,” Horus muttered as he tried to pull out and Abaddon bit down. “I want your ass, not your—mmph!”

Abaddon took the full length deeper than usual and wrapped his hands around Horus’s butt to pull him closer. Horus felt himself swelling as Abaddon’s fingers began to move down his rear, closer to his anus. He groaned and forgot he wanted to pull out, instead thrusting into Abaddon’s mouth to get himself to climax. His body began to tense, and his legs stiffened as he felt his length about to explode. He inhaled sharply as he used Abaddon’s topknot as a handle to get himself deeper inside. When Abaddon’s finger ran over his hole, he couldn’t hold himself back anymore and drenched the insides of his First Captain’s mouth. Abaddon gagged but swallowed it all, pulling his mouth off once he was certain Horus was done. He gasped for breath and looked up at his Primarch, waiting for further orders. Horus looked down at him with flushed cheeks before pulling him to his feet.

“You are…okay?” he whispered, fighting the urge to pull Abaddon close and continue their encounter.

“I…would like to keep going?” Abaddon whispered back. Horus didn’t need more than that as he pressed his lips on Abaddon’s and pushed him against the wall. Horus’s hands ran down the armor, unlatching it and letting it fall to the ground as his tongue explored Abaddon’s mouth as though it had never been there before. Abaddon kicked it to the side once he was wearing only his body suit, swearing when his ankle caught an edge but not breaking the kiss. Horus wasted no time removing the body suit, hands exploring his First Captain’s ass greedily. He squeezed it firmly, then pulled away from the kiss and turned Abaddon around.

“You didn’t listen, you know. I told you to let go and you didn’t. So now I have to beat some sense into you,” Horus growled, slapping Abaddon’s butt with full strength. Abaddon yelped, pushing his rear out so Horus could hit it harder, and his Primarch obliged. This went on several minutes until tears filled Abaddon’s eyes. He took deep breaths to stabilize himself, bracing against the wall. He desperately wanted to rub his cock, liquid dribbling from the tip as Horus pushed against him, still not penetrating.

“Have you learned your lesson, Ezekyle?” Horus asked, voice low and rumbly.

“I…live to…to serve my Primarch, forever,” Abaddon panted. “So long as…he’ll teach me. I’ll learn.”

Horus laughed gently and kissed the port next to Abaddon’s spine, running his tongue as deep as it would go. His right hand eased down the First Captain’s front, teasing the ports there before grasping Abaddon’s shaft firmly. Abaddon groaned and pushed himself back further, body begging for more contact. Horus continued kissing down his back and teasing Abaddon’s cock as he got on his knees behind him. He then began kissing down the crack, then back up and biting the tailbone. His left hand moved between Abaddon’s legs and massaged his balls. Once he felt his First Captain about to explode, he pinched the tip closed and turned him back around.

“H-H-Horus!” Abaddon shouted, knees shaking and body tense from a strange combination of pleasure and pain. Horus looked up at him with bright, golden eyes as his tongue flicked over Abaddon’s pinched tip. As Abaddon’s mouth opened to protest or beg more, Horus slid his finger inside and began stretching his First Captain, cautious not to hit the sensitive spots too hard or too often. Abaddon could not speak, only pant desperately as he held himself up on the wall behind him. Horus then took Abaddon’s length as deep as possible, sliding a second finger in as he sucked. Less than a minute passed before Abaddon came, his body trembling as he refused to fall. Horus swallowed every drop, groaning in pleasure when it hit his gag reflexes. He then kept running his tongue over Abaddon’s length, getting him back to hard as quickly as possible. His fingers worked deeper until Abaddon grunted.

“Warming solution, or regular?” Horus asked as he pulled himself off the cock in front of him. Abaddon let out a small whimper before he managed to mouth “warm.” Horus stood up and kissed Abaddon again, more forcefully than before. He pressed his hips against his partner’s and picked him up, pulling Abaddon’s legs around his waist.

“Very well, but we’re moving to the bed,” he whispered, his tongue running over Abaddon’s lower lip. He walked the First Captain there and dropped him onto the pelts he had been admiring earlier.

“On your stomach. If you want to watch me break your ass again, you get to twist and beg me to do it harder,” Horus said, his Cthonic accent taking over his speech. Abaddon nodded in compliance and rolled over, pushing himself to hands and knees while he waited. Horus walked slowly to the cabinet and retrieved a bottle of oil with a small, exotic looking flame on the side.

“It’s either promethium or warming lube. We’re about to find out,” he taunted as he got on the bed behind Abaddon. He drizzled the lubricant over Abaddon’s opening, teasing it in with the same fingers he had been using before. With every thrust, it got warmer and slightly thicker, and Abaddon gasped when Horus slid in a third finger.

“Too much, hmm?” Horus teased, pulling all the way out to drip more in the twitching hole before shoving all three fingers back in at once.

“M-m-moreharder, SIR!” Abaddon begged. His arms were shaking and barely able to hold him up, his body covered in sweat and his teeth clenched as he waited. Horus repeated the process several times before leaning back and coating himself in the same lubricant.

“Do you still need it, Ezekyle?”

“Yes sir I do, sir, please sir,” Abaddon begged, pushing his entire body towards Horus. To his surprise, Horus pushed his tip in and slowly kept moving forward until his entire shaft was inside. Abaddon collapsed forward once the thrusting began, twisting so he could pull Horus closer and deeper. The lubricant began working almost immediately, heating them both as their bodies slapped together. Horus almost lost his balance, shoving harder into Abaddon as his hands went to the sides. Abaddon begged incoherently as he began dripping cum again, his own shaft being rubbed against the fur beneath him. The bliss continued as Horus also began panting, his shaft swelling inside Abaddon’s ass.

“I-in or o-out, Abaddon, quickly,” he gasped.

“IN!” Abaddon screamed as he came, Horus coming at the same time. Horus fell on top of Abaddon and shivered a moment before wrapping his arms around him. It was silent a while save for their heavy breathing.

“We’re made to fight, not to fuck, I think…” Horus mumbled into the curve of Abaddon’s back. Abaddon laughed weakly and shook his head.

“You’re fully capable of both, in my humble opinion,” he whispered.

“I’m going to have to thank Tarik. Again,” Horus said, chuckling before nuzzling Abaddon’s back and falling asleep.

“Me too,” Abaddon replied as his eyes closed. It wouldn’t last long, but for a while, he and his Primarch could relax.

Together.


End file.
